Where were you this morning? he demanded
‘Where I should have been. In the nursery with our daughter.
‘You were supposed to meet me at the harbor. I waited for an hour.’ Melanie was not going to be intimidated. ‘Serves you right. I didn’t say I was coming.’ The look on his face would have made Melanie laugh if she hadn’t been so mad. ‘You’re so used to getting your own way it never occurred to you that I wouldn’t turn up, did it?’
They glared at each other. ‘I am not going anywhere with you.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said, and seizing her arm practically dragged her down the path.
‘Let me go,’ she yelled at him. But he took no notice and pushing her in front of him propelled her down the path to the harbor. At the quay the fisherman looked on with undisguised interest as Nicos frogmarched her along. ‘Everyone is staring at me,’ she hissed at him. ‘Well, stop struggling,’ was all he said. He dumped her unceremoniously next to a big iron bollard, which secured the island’s motor launch. Swiftly jumping down into the cockpit he reached up and hauled her in. In a trice he had gunned the motor and was shouting at the boatman, ‘Cast her off’.’
The impetus of the powerful twin engines lifted the boat’s nose and Melanie was thrown back on the white leather upholstered bench. She gazed furiously at Nicos’s back as he punched out of the harbor at full throttle. Melanie was almost pinned to her seat as she held on for dear life. Once on the open seas he eased up and as the boat’s noise dropped to a less precipitous angle Melanie was on her feet and tugging furiously at him. His hands were clamped tight to the steering wheel and without moving them he elbowed her off. Incandescent, she yelled at him ‘Where the devil do you think you’re taking me.’ He turned his head towards her and over the roar of the engines he mouthed something at her.
‘What?’
‘Moving close to her ear he shouted ‘Lunch’.
Melanie couldn’t be sure she had heard right. Surely he’d not said ‘lunch’. She retreated to her bench seat. It was obviously no good asking him anything in this mood. She glanced around her. She wasn’t sure which direction they were taking, but they obviously had not gone anywhere near the moored yacht and seemed now to be quite far out at sea. A smudge on the horizon looked like land to her. Was he taking her to some island?
The nearer they came to the smudge she could make out white buildings on hillsides and a long, snaking coastline. No, not an island. It looked very much like the mainland. Maybe he’s going to dump me and leave me there, she thought darkly. Nicos was slowing the boat and nosing into a small harbor. Melanie looked around her. It wasn’t the port where they normally set out for Skiapolos. She guessed they must have come further up the coast. Nicos jumped ashore and tied the boat up, leaning down to help her ashore. To her annoyance he looked pleased with himself.
‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?’ he said, gazing around the small harbor. Melanie refused to give him the satisfaction of agreeing, but as she looked around her at the colorful bobbing fishing boats and the bright awnings of the tavernas lining the quayside, she had to admit that it was.
He led her to a nearby bar and without asking ordered her a glass of Greek wine. It was like a ticket to the past. It was his favorite of all Greek wines. Nicos had introduced her to it on their very first visit to Skiapolos, amused and delighted that she had never had it before. Why was he ordering if for them now? Had he forgotten or was he remembering. She wasn’t sure which.
Perhaps the drink was having the desired affect but she suddenly felt very relaxed. She settled back in the comfortable wicker chair and let her eyes wander over the scene. He sipped his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass as she ‘I knew you’d like it here,’ he said serenely.
His assumption that all was now well between them made her cross again. ‘You brought me here by force. You kidnapped me,’ she accused. ‘Kidnapping,’ he mused, turning his glass round in his hands reflectively. ‘That’s a crime isn’t it? Perhaps I am learning from you. Let’s see what you can teach me. Oh, yes, how to steal someone else’s identity, how to forge a contract, and, last but not least, how to stowaway on a yacht.’
She rose to her feet, nearly overturning the small table. He put out a restraining hand. ‘I’m sorry, he said contrite. ‘I can’t resist teasing you. I promise faithfully I won’t do it again. Well, not over lunch, anyway’ he amended.
‘Did you really bring me here just for lunch?’
‘Of course. But if there is anything else you’d like to do please don’t hesitate to let me know.’ He looked at her, his eyes alight.
‘I don’t know where I am with you,’ she complained. ‘One minute you’re mad as a wasp and bulldozing me aboard your boat and then you say you’re taking me to lunch calm as you please.
‘I’m never in a temper for long. You know that. I’m not saying I wasn’t pretty cross. You stood me up.’ He looked astounded and Melanie had to laugh.
‘Not used to that, are you?’ she chided.
‘I was thinking things over last night,’ he said. ‘I thought if we came here for lunch today we could maybe talk things over. Maybe it’s time I explained a few things to you.’ He looked at her seriously. ‘I’m not saying it will change things between us but I think there are things about me you need to know.’
Chapter Ten
He summoned the waiter for the bill and they walked together along the quay to a taverna where a cluster of outside tables with blue and white checked cloths jostled each other for space. At the entrance a portly figure bustled out and flung his arms round Nicos, kissing him on both cheeks and babbling away excitedly in Greek, none of which Melanie could follow.
‘George, meet Melanie,’ introduced Nicos. Melanie found herself roundly kissed on both cheeks and her hand pumped excitedly. ‘George is the owner,’ Nicos explained as they were ushered into the dim interior and through to a vine covered, sun dappled terrace. A lone table was set for two and the proprietor pulled out a chair for Melanie with a smiling flourish, gesturing for her to sit.
‘Our private dining area,’ smiled Nicos. ‘Only very honored guests get to sit out here.’
‘Mr Nicos is such a guest,’ said George, looking proudly at Nicos. ‘Without Mr Chalambrous I would no longer own this taverna.’
‘What did he mean,’ asked Melanie, as George hurried off. ‘’He exaggerates,’ said Nicos dismissively. ‘It’s an old family business and George’s father nearly ran it into the ground. I just lent him some money when the old man died.’ ‘Lent or gave?’ said Melanie, giving him an old fashioned look. ‘Neither really,’ said Nicos, whose attention seemed to be fixed on the menu… ‘George has no family. I gather I am going to be left the taverna in his will.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘Maybe I’ll give it to you and you can run it as an upmarket restaurant to service all the luxury yachts that put in here.’
He laid the menu back on the table and looked across at her. ‘Have you thought what you will do when the summer is over?’ Melanie’s heart lurched. She didn’t want to think about it. All she wanted to do was live in the present and take each day with her daughter as a gift. She couldn’t bear to think ahead to the day when she had to leave the island for good.
But Nicos persisted. ‘I think you should go back into catering. You were very good. You could open a small restaurant?
‘What with? she said feelingly.
‘I could finance it,’ he said. ‘That would be two restaurants I’d own,’ he laughed. Melanie was affronted. ‘I wouldn’t dream of taking your money. I’ve told you that before. You think you your money can solve every problem....’
‘No, I don’t think that,’ he said. ‘I know very well that it can’t. It can’t solve us, can it?’ He looked sadly at her and she looked away.
‘We were so happy once, he said. ‘If I could bring those days back I would. But what happened between us can’t be put right.’
‘We could put it right, but you would have to change
,’ said Melanie.
‘I can’t change,’ he said. ‘What I believe and the principles I live by are paramount. They can’t be altered, not for you, not for anyone. I believe in loyalty and promises that must be kept,’ he said resolutely.
‘And what if I told you that they are my principles also.’
‘Then I would have difficulty in believing you.’
‘Why? Because of what happened to me. You think I wasn’t loyal to you, but what if my promises were made a long time ago to someone else?
‘Once you were in my life I expected you to be loyal only to me, to make promises only to me.’
‘And promises made to someone else before I met you don’t count. Do you think that’s fair, do you think that’s reasonable? Melanie was trying hard to keep her tone level. Somehow she had to get through to him. ‘If you would only let me explain..’
‘I don’t need you to explain. What I know, I know.’
‘But that’s just it, Nicos... ‘You don’t know, you only think you do.’
‘There is another man involved in your life. That’s all I need to know ‘
Melanie had tried hard to keep her temper in check in the face of his intransigence. Now it broke like a too full damn. Her voice remained level, but the tone was venomous.
‘You and your principles,’ she said. ‘Does it ever occur to you that others have them, too? If you got down from your high horse just once in a while you might listen to reason. But from now on I am perfectly happy for you to believe what you want of me. I know the person I am and I can live with it. You don’t know me. I’m not even sure you ever wanted to. You just had some picture of a perfect woman who was to be your everything. Well, I hope you find her, but I very much doubt if she even exists.’ She slumped back in her chair, exhausted by her emotions.
Nicos had sat impassively throughout her diatribe, only the flickering of his jaw muscles betraying his agitation. Melanie saw and was glad. Suffer, it’s your turn, she thought furiously.
Finally he broke his silence, ‘I didn’t bring you out here today to quarrel,’ he said.
‘Why did you bring me,’ she shot back.
‘I wanted us to be somewhere quiet, somewhere private away from Skiapolos where I could explain something to you. There are things I want you to understand about me.’
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. ‘Yesterday we were having a wonderful day together; it couldn’t have been more perfect. Yet we ended up quarrelling furiously. I wondered why, wondered what set us against each other.
Melanie interrupted, ‘The same thing that always does. The fact that you won’t listen to my explanation.
‘No, it wasn’t that, not this time,’ he said. ‘You thought I was saying you weren’t a good mother and you were quite rightly angry. But I wasn’t talking about you. You are a wonderful mother. I could never fault you.’
‘If you think that then why not let me be a mother always – not just for this summer,’ she interjected hotly but he ignored her outburst.
He looked down at the table. ‘This is not easy for me,’ he said. ‘I don’t like talking about it, but I think you deserve to know something about me.’ Melanie looked at him, uncertainty written across her face. ‘You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. If it’s not about Electra or not about us then it’s not for me to know.’
‘But it is. What I am about to tell you has formed me and made me think and behave the way I do today. I hope it will help you understand why there are things that I can’t accept.’ His jaw tightened and his face had gone pale under his tan. His distress was a tangible thing and Melanie was suddenly unaccountably afraid for him. Pain was etched visibly into his face.
His obvious distress deflated her anger. She reached for his hand and gripped it with her own. He looked gratefully at her.
‘It’s difficult to know where to start.’ His frown deepened. ‘Let’s put it this way, I didn’t have the Boys Own childhood you might think.’ His flippancy failed to disguise hurt in his eyes. His voice devoid of emotion, he began to talk, only the pressure of his hand in hers betraying the underlying stress.
‘My mother was the daughter of one of the richest man in Greece,’ he told her. ‘The only child and heir to my Grandfather are vast shipping empire... At 16 she eloped with a 42 year old playboy polo player from Argentina. So I am half Argentinean.’ His smile was wry. ‘Predictably the marriage didn’t last, but unfortunately for the family I did.’ His smile turned bitter.
‘They didn’t really know what to do with me. I was boarded out at schools in England at first, later in Switzerland. My Grandfather never forgave my mother. He made his brother’s son his successor. He didn’t cut my Mother off without the proverbial penny but almost. He gave her an allowance, which enabled her to lead a rackety life around Europe’s hotspots, taking up with one unsuitable man after another.
‘I learned not to trust any of the promises she made to me. It was just one lying excuse after another. “Yes, darling. Of course I will come to school and see you in the swimming gala” and “of course, we will spend the summer holidays together”. But she never turned up at for the gala and when the summer holidays came she was off somewhere else with the new man in her life. Once she completely forgot to make any arrangements for me and I was left to spend the first week of the Easter holidays alone in the school dormitory until Grandfather made arrangements for me to be brought to the Skiapolos.
‘But you were happy on the island, weren’t you?’ said Melanie.
‘Yes, I was,’ he said. The islanders became my substitute family. But I always had a fantasy that one day my mother would claim me and we would live together happily ever after. A childish dream. It never had a chance of coming true
‘When I was 14 I think my mother must have had a rush of conscience because she collected me from my Swiss school and drove me breakneck speed into France and down to the Riviera to her rented villa. Looking back she was probably on some drug or other. But I was excited and hopeful. At last we were going to have the family holiday I had dreamed off and she had so often promised. But it didn’t work out like that.’ His voice was low and pain filled. ‘A teenage son was something of an encumbrance to her social life. She would get up around noon, make vague promises of what we were going to do that day, none of which ever materialised. I was left to make my own amusements most of the time.’
As Melanie listened the anger she felt towards him was draining away. Her heart went out to him. ‘You make your childhood sound very sad,’ she said.
‘Only Anna and my visits to this island make it bearable. Anna took care of me like my mother never did. But everything changed when I was 16.’
‘Was it something that happened to your mother,’ asked Melanie, softly.
‘No. But you might say it was a true Greek tragedy. My Grandfather died. On the way to his funeral the private plane carrying his heir – my 22-year-old cousin and his father – crashed and both were killed. My mother had been excluded by the small trust fund set up for her. The only one left to inherit was me.’
Nicos gave an ironic grimace. ‘Suddenly I became very popular with Mummy dearest. She’d turn up to my Swiss school with her latest boyfriend in tow. Where once I longed for her to come I now began to find her visits acutely embarrassing. She was either drunk or on drugs. Her make-up was garish, her clothes entirely unsuitable, skirts too short, tops too low cut. The trustees were in charge of the Chalambrous Shipping Line fortune, but I guess she knew that in five short years I would have control of the money.’
His story shocked Melanie and her heart contracted. ‘But she was your mother,’ she said, ‘She must have loved you.’
‘I don’t know if she did,’ he said sadly. ‘Mothers are not always the saints they are made out to be.’
‘So on the boat you really weren’t talking about me, were you?’ she said. ‘You were talking about yourself. I thought you were saying I was a bad mother to Electra.’
&nb
sp; ‘No, I don’t think that about you,’ he said. ‘Nobody who has seen you with her could think that.’ Melanie felt a rush of complex emotions. If he believed she was a good mother why wouldn’t he let her into Electra’s life for always?
. ‘I’m not your mother,’ she said. ‘I’m me; I’m Melanie, mother of your daughter. Given the choice I would stay with her forever. Don’t punish me for what your mother did to you.’
But there was no anger left in her. She longed to comfort him, to erase the scars of his wounded childhood, and above all to prove to him that she was a woman he could trust with their daughter’s life. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this before,’ she asked him gently. ‘It would have helped me understand a lot of things.’
‘I don’t like to remember it,’ he said. ‘It’s why I am determined to give Electra the most stable childhood it is in my power to give her. I will put that before all other considerations.’ Melanie looked searchingly at him. ‘And you thought that I was not a stable enough person to be the mother of your child. You thought I would turn out like your own mother.’
For the first time he looked uncertain. ‘The more I see you with Electra the more I realise you would never be like her. I was wrong to think that.’
‘If you were wrong about that could it be that you are wrong about other things?’
‘What other things?’ he asked, suddenly wary. His tone was a warning, Melanie knew. He wasn’t ready to hear what she wanted to tell him. Perhaps not now, but you will, she told herself. You have opened the curtain a crack and I will make you listen. Suddenly happy, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she whispered.
The Passionate Greek Page 10